Anxiety Girl Falls Again (Sadie Valentine - Book 2)

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Anxiety Girl Falls Again (Sadie Valentine - Book 2) Page 4

by Lacey London


  Speeding down the busy road, it’s not long before we leave the bustling street behind and turn onto a country lane. This is what I love the most about living in Alderley Edge. To the left, you have socialites and champagne and to the right, you have sprawling countryside, which is exactly where we are heading. You see, Ruby lives in Mobberley, on her parent’s farm and I’m so excited to discover more about her home life. Although we have grown close over the past six months, this will be the first time that Aldo and I have been to her place.

  The driver takes a sharp left and pulls onto a secluded path. Feeling the car tremble beneath our feet as we race over uneven ground, I strain my neck for a better view. Spotting an isolated building up ahead, I shield my eyes from the sun. The old farm house stands alone in an extensive open field, brightly decorated in banners and ribbons. Hovering over the seatbelt buckle, a shiver of excitement runs through me as the cab comes to an abrupt stop.

  Leaving Aldo to settle the bill, I slide over the seat and step out of the car. Quickly realising I have worn the worst shoes possible for a trip to a farm, I head for the gravel trail and take in my surroundings. Ruby wasn’t lying when she said she lived in the middle of nowhere. Apart from a derelict-looking structure opposite, there really is nothing as far as the eye can see.

  Mesmerised by the bright rapeseed fields, I almost don’t hear Aldo calling my name.

  ‘Earth to Shirley!’ Striding ahead, he waves his arms around above his head to gain my attention.

  Tearing my eyes away from the blanket of yellow, I hitch up my dress and carefully make my way to the barn conversion. The sound of laughter and upbeat music becomes louder as we rap on the iron knocker. Almost immediately, the door swings open and a gasp escapes my lips.

  Standing in front of me is Ruby’s double. From the aubergine waves to the big green eyes and porcelain skin, she is an exact replica of the girl I have grown to love. Too busy gawking at the pretty lady, it takes me a moment to realise that this woman is actually twenty years Ruby’s senior.

  Clearly confused, her gaze moves from Aldo to me and back again as she tries to work out who we are.

  ‘You made it!’ A familiar voice shouts over her shoulder, before Ruby pops her head around the doorframe. ‘Mum, this is Sadie and Aldo. Guys, this is my mum, Yvette.’

  ‘Happy Birthday!’ I exclaim, digging around in my handbag for the card I stuffed in there earlier. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!’

  Casually taking the pink envelope, Yvette tucks it under her arm and holds out a hand for a polite shake.

  ‘Thank you for coming along.’ She smiles thinly and takes my hand in hers. ‘Ruby has told me so much about you both.’

  ‘All good things, I hope?’ Aldo winks and passes Yvette a bottle of bubbles as we step inside.

  ‘Of course!’ She replies, motioning to the pop-up bar at the opposite side of the barn conversion. ‘Please, help yourselves to a drink.’

  Smoothing down her dress, Yvette excuses herself to greet other guests.

  ‘You and your mother look so alike…’ I remark, watching Yvette laugh and giggle in the exact same way Ruby does. ‘You could be sisters.’

  ‘Don’t let her hear you say that.’ Ruby rolls her eyes and beckons us to follow her to the bar. ‘I’ll never hear the end of it.’

  I grin in response as we weave through the clusters of party people. Yvette is nothing like I imagined. From what Ruby has told me, I was expecting a tweed-wearing country lady, who cooked wholesome family meals whilst her husband and sons took care of the farm. In reality, Yvette Robinson is a power-dressing woman with an almost frosty air about her.

  As I study Yvette’s mannerisms, the music turns up a notch, effectively popping my thought bubble. There was a time where social situations like this would make me want to run for the hills, but now that I have my anxiety under control, I can see it for what it is. No longer do I hyperventilate as that all-encompassing fear grips my chest. The nauseating feeling that used to wash over me when I stepped into a busy room has vanished and fingers crossed, it won’t ever come back.

  Looking around the party as Ruby nips behind the bar to grab a couple of drinks, I smile to myself at the kitted out barn conversion. Balloons dance happily against the vaulted ceiling, birthday bunting is draped along the walls and every person in the room is wearing a paper party hat. There’s no secret surrounding what is happening here today.

  Accepting a plastic flute of fizz, I clink it against Aldo’s and silently pray we have escaped the dreaded party hats. As though reading my mind, Ruby reaches above the bar and giggles.

  ‘Here you go, guys!’ Waving two yellow hats around playfully, she forces one onto my head and hands the other to Aldo. ‘You’re not part of the family without one.’

  Scowling at the silly hat, Aldo shakes out his man-bun and reluctantly tugs the elastic beneath his chin.

  ‘There you go!’ Ruby chuckles and claps her hands together. ‘You’re officially one of the Robinsons!’

  Aldo shoots me a glare as I snap a photo of him on my phone and double over with laughter.

  ‘Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the family…’

  Chapter 9

  Resting my hands on my hips, I wipe my sweaty brow and take a step back from the makeshift dance floor. Aldo may have the energy levels of a hyper toddler, but two hours of dancing has left me absolutely exhausted.

  ‘I’m just going to get some air!’ I yell to Ruby, who is enthusiastically throwing shapes with Aldo. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Nodding in response, Ruby cheers loudly as the music changes track. Plucking my bag from the pile by the bar, I leave the dancers to enjoy the DJ and slip outside. The cool air hits me immediately, providing much-needed relief from the warm room. Taking a few deep breaths, I wobble along the gravel path until I reach a wooden gate. Resting my arms on the fence, I allow my eyes to close and fill my lungs with fresh country air. It must be so refreshing to live somewhere like this. To live in a place where you’re completely cut off from the rest of civilisation and everything that comes with it. The loud cars, busy shops and lively restaurants suddenly seem a million miles away.

  Peeling open my eyes, my gaze lands on the dilapidated building across the road. The old bricks are in desperate need of a clean and the pile of junk in the yard gives the impression it has been empty for many years. Moving closer, my eyes widen in shock as an elderly man steps out of the front door and hangs a tiny sign in the window. Narrowing my eyes, I try to work out the lettering on the faded plaque. No vacancies. I let out a gasp as I read the text. I don’t know what I’m more shocked about. The fact it’s a B&B or the fact people are actually paying to stay there. The place is neglected beyond belief and it’s literally in the middle of nowhere.

  Before I can tear my eyes away, another silhouette appears and gives the old gentleman a nod. Too intrigued to return to the party, I wait until the figure steps out of the shadows and feel my stomach drop to the floor. Is that… Aidan? Completely transfixed, I watch him pull a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and swiftly light up. Wearing the same jacket he wears to the support group, he inhales deeply as he paces back and forth in front of the building. What is he doing here? There must be hundreds of beautiful hotels in Cheshire. Why on earth would he choose this bed and breakfast?

  Suddenly looking up, Aidan’s face freezes and he stares directly at me. My heart pounds as I debate running back inside to safety, but before I can move a muscle, he holds up a hand in acknowledgment. Feeling frozen to the spot, I slowly manage to raise my arm and wave back. For a moment, we stare at one another in an eerie silence, until Aidan stubs out his cigarette and makes his way towards me.

  It seems to take an eternity for him to walk the short distance across the road and when he finally stops on the other side of the gate, you could hear a pin drop.

  ‘Hi.’ He mumbles, squinting to avoid being blinded by the bright sun.

  Quickly remembering I have a p
arty hat on, I hurriedly snatch it off my head in embarrassment. ‘It’s a birthday party.’ I explain, motioning towards the barn conversion.

  ‘Ah…’ Aidan looks behind me, his brow pulled into a tight frown as he stifles a yawn. ‘That explains the music that disturbed me.’

  I open my mouth to apologise when I realise it’s only five in the afternoon.

  ‘You were sleeping?’ I ask, before I can stop myself.

  Slowly shaking his head in response, Aidan looks away. ‘Not unless you class staring at the ceiling in desperation as sleeping.’

  I offer him a sympathetic smile and peek at the crumbling bed and breakfast.

  Following my gaze, Aidan turns to look at the tired structure. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

  I try to appear convinced, but my scepticism shines through.

  ‘Honestly…’ He protests, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘I can show you, if you like?’

  I glance over my shoulder at the barn conversion and bite my lip. I should politely decline and head back to the party, but something inside me wants to find out more about him. If I know more about Aidan, maybe it will enable me to help him more at the support group.

  ‘Okay.’ I reply, trying to sound casual as I fasten my hat to the fence. ‘They won’t miss me for five minutes.’

  Fumbling with a hidden latch on the left side of the panel, Aidan holds open the gate and allows it to close behind me. A light wind whooshes past us as I follow him across the grass and towards the B&B. The closer I get, I notice he’s right. It’s not as bad as it first looked. A few sporadic cars are parked in the yard and a couple of other guests are sat in the overgrown garden behind the building. Yes, it’s tired, but I can now see it’s a fully functioning establishment.

  Watching Aidan reach for the door handle, I can’t help noticing that his right hand is badly bruised and covered in scratches. Frowning in confusion, I choose not to draw attention to it and step inside. The first thing that hits me is the musty smell that hangs thickly in the air. You know the kind, the smell you only find in charity shops that sticks in the back of your throat like smog.

  ‘It’s this way.’ Aidan points to a set of stairs and fishes a key out of his jacket.

  The carpet feels sparse beneath my feet as I follow him up the creaky steps. Each one groans louder than the last until we come to a stop at an old wooden door. Overlooking the peeling wallpaper, I hold my breath and cautiously step inside. It’s only when the door slams shut behind me that my warning senses kick in. What am I doing? I’ve followed a mysterious man, who has obviously punched a wall, into a falling down B&B without telling a soul.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ He asks, standing in front of the only window and effectively blocking out all the light.

  Trying not to panic, I lick my dry lips and look around the room. The four-poster bed is heavily scratched, with a wonky headboard and faded floral duvet. Retro lamps sit on the dusty windowsills and it’s fair to say that the dated bathroom has seen better days.

  ‘It’s… nice.’ I manage, trying my hardest to sound genuine.

  A tiny smile washes over Aidan’s face before his frown returns. ‘I wouldn’t go that far, but I needed a room and they had a vacancy.’

  Nodding in response, I fumble with the hem of my sleeve nervously. ‘What brings you to Mobberley?’ I ask, completely flummoxed as to why anyone would stumble across this place.

  ‘I have no idea.’ He mutters, his voice barely audible. ‘I just walked.’

  ‘Walked from where?’ Desperate for him to elaborate, I take a step towards him.

  Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Aidan holds his head in his hands. ‘I just had to get away. I needed to be somewhere people didn’t know my name.’

  Gingerly edging closer, I perch on the duvet next to him, not wanting to interrupt his flow.

  ‘I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take the questions, the sympathetic looks and the constant memories…’ His voice trails off and he takes a deep breath. ‘I thought I could run away from the gut-wrenching hollowness inside, but it’s followed me. It’s still here and it’s getting darker with every day that passes.’

  I’ve lost count of the number of people I’ve met at Anxiety Anonymous who have tried to run away from their problems. From last-minute trips to the Caribbean, to hastily-ended relationships and snap decisions they believe will fix them. Burying your feelings seems the most appealing idea when you’re of poor mental health, but sooner or later, that box is going to have to be opened if you stand any chance of moving on and putting it behind you.

  ‘It will pass.’ I say gently, studying every line on his face. ‘That seems hard to believe right now, but it will.’

  ‘I used to believe that, but as time ticks by, I’m beginning to lose hope I will ever be me again...’

  ‘Have you had any professional help for the way you’re feeling?’ I ask, noticing a white strip of skin on his wedding finger where a ring used to sit.

  Aidan shakes his head slowly and rubs his eyes in frustration. ‘No. I thought I could handle this myself.’

  ‘There’s no shame in admitting you’re struggling. Every single person at the support group has been where you are now. They have all had to make the decision to ask for help and that is the first step on the road back to recovery. Until you admit that to yourself, you’ll forever be taking one step forward and two steps back.’

  There’s an emotional silence, before Aidan clears his throat and speaks up.

  ‘So, if I come back to the support group, you can help me?’ He twists his body to face mine, hope carved into his tired face. ‘You can take this all away and put me back to the way I was before?’

  ‘I wish it was that simple, I really do.’ I sigh heavily and shake my head. ‘I can’t promise to free you of your troubles until you have addressed the root cause yourself. The door to Anxiety Anonymous will always be open, you just have to choose to walk through it.’

  Aidan stares at me closely, before eventually nodding. Hoping I have given him the push that he needs, I steal a glimpse at my watch and push myself up.

  ‘I should be getting back to the party…’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Aidan quickly composes himself and pulls open the door. ‘Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.’

  ‘You’re most welcome.’ I give him a friendly smile and make for the stairs, stopping as I reach for the wobbly rail. ‘So, will we be seeing you at the next meeting?’

  Aidan scratches his stubble and nods, signalling an end to our bizarre conversation. Carefully treading down the noisy steps, I push my way outside and head across the field. Music from the party fills the air as I release the fence and untie my hat from the post. Slipping it onto my head, I hitch up my dress and tread across the gravel, giving the B&B a final glance before walking back into the barn conversion.

  Ruby and Aldo are still rocking the dance floor, although now they have a crowd of cheering people egging them on. Giving them a little wave, I lean against the bar and join in with the jovialities. Thankfully, they haven’t even realised I’ve been missing, which is something I am incredibly grateful for. Aldo already treats me with kid gloves. I can just imagine the ear-bashing I would get if I told him where I’ve really been. Following a clearly troubled man into a neglected building probably isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but my inner anxiety girl is longing to help him.

  Since the day I signed my contract with Anxiety Anonymous, I promised myself I would give everything I had to the role and if that means going above and beyond the call of duty, so be it. I’ll never forget feeling as horrifically low as Aidan feels right now and if I can help to free him from the mental torture that is slowly destroying him, nothing will stop me from doing it…

  Chapter 10

  Fishing through the plastic box, I dig out a peg and clip the final towel to the washing line. Watching the rows of clothes billowing in the warm breeze, I grab the empty laundry basket a
nd take a seat on the bench. All morning I have washed, dried and pressed load after load of laundry. Transforming the wrinkly garments into freshly-ironed outfits gives me immense satisfaction. Removing the crumples makes me feel like I have my life in order. After all, with no creases in your clothes, you will only have wrinkles where your smiles have been.

  Since my spontaneous meeting with Aidan yesterday, I haven’t been able to shake him from my mind. In one way or another, every person I come into contact with at Anxiety Anonymous makes a lasting impression on me, but Aidan has bothered me more than anyone has before. The heartache in his eyes is deeper and darker than I ever thought possible. His pained expression tormented me every time I closed my eyes last night and it was still with me when I rolled out of bed this morning.

  Trying to forget about everything work-related, I stand up to head inside when Mateo strolls out of the kitchen. Pausing to rub his head on the bench, he purrs gently and pads his way over to me. Taking a moment to check the perimeters of his precious garden, he lets out a meow and rolls onto his back. After giving him a quick belly rub, I leave him to bask in the sunshine and pick up the empty basket.

  The kitchen is warm from the strong sun as I pull a notepad from the cupboard and start to make a list. Since the day I moved into Blossom View, I have been making a mental note of the many things that need painting, plastering and perfecting. Now that I’ve settled in, it’s finally time to address them. Tapping the pen against the paper, I move from room to room and make messy squiggles on the page. When I finally stop, I am faced with a list longer than my arm and I must admit to feeling a little overwhelmed.

  Grabbing my laptop, I scour the internet for some of the problems I have found and feel my heart drop. Obviously, I planned on giving the cottage a facelift, but according to this, the cracks in the walls are going to take a lot more than a quick lick of paint to fix. Running my eyes over the text, I try and fail to work out where to start. Maybe I should call in a builder. Someone who can put a plan together to whip this place into shape. Sometimes, the best course of action is to take a step back and leave it to the professionals.

 

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